Reversed Cups
by Seridano
Summary: A tale of chalk full of Archie, playing cards, lost love, and second chances.


**Reversed Cups**

"Honestly, Archie, put those things away before somebody see them and gets the wrong idea." Horatio motioned toward the stack of cards settled in a perfectly upright stack atop his friend's palm as he spoke, both his manner and the slight color that had come to his cheeks giving him away. He didn't like the odds at all, and this was not a game in which he was meant to be employed. This was dangerous and, judging by the spark of mischief and spreading grin that made up Archie's features as he sat cross legged, balancing himself in the middle of Horatio's cot, that much had already been ascertained and weighed against the promise of answers which, clearly, Horatio did not wish to give up.

No matter. Archie shifted and swung himself easily to the ground and approached Horatio, holding one of the cards outward, anxious to have his friend take it up himself.

"Come on Horatio, they're harmless." Archie closed his hand over the deck, waving it about as he spoke, and Horatio instantly paled, looking much as though he'd seen a ghost.

"Or are you afraid of what you might…see." Lips quirked upward to form a rather cheeky grin and finally, Horatio gave in.

"Fine…hand it over then," he snapped, tone meant to be curt for sure but coming out more resigned and almost frightened…and yet, there was something undercutting all else, running secretly beneath the underbelly of those main tones; exhilaration, as though, in taking the card offered to him, he was getting away with so much more than he'd ever have thought himself able to, or would have ever thought he'd wanted to. His life was devoted to his duty, for fulfillment of his duties was the purpose of a naval officer's life, nothing more and nothing less, and certainly not this gambling with the fates and the Devil's cards over matters of lust and the heart. And yet, Horatio reached forward and snatched the card from Archie's grasp, clutching at it tightly as he turned it over for the both of them to see, though Archie strode away and hopped back up onto Horatio's cot before he could get a terribly good look at it. He already knew what the card would show.

He did, however, note the white-knuckled death grip that his friend kept upon the card as it was overturned and shook his head, amusement briefly sparking to life in his eyes. "Never let anyone say you do things by halves." There was a barely suppressed laughter in his voice and, almost at once, Horatio lashed out.

"It isn't funny Archie!" Horatio asserted, voice rising, though he knew that he too should have been laughing now that he'd seen what lie on the other side of the card, what face it wore. He'd thought his friend had been inviting him to play a game of the Devil's own making, a gypsy game, only to find that the card that he had turned over was nothing more than regular playing card, the King of hearts to be exact. Though perhaps that, in and of itself, was telling.

A pea-jacket, being the nearest thing within reach, came sailing suddenly over Archie's head as he fell backward into Horatio's cot, having dissolved into momentary hysterics. The misfired pea-jacket landed atop his head which, when he'd finally managed to quell his laughter and catch his breath, peeked up from under it, employing some manner of caution almost as an afterthought.

Horatio was facing away from him now, tugging on his stockings and preparing to head out early and wait for his watch (like as not), or perhaps he would go out and seek the solitude of the mizzen top. Archie couldn't help but feel responsible for his friend's foul mood. After all, he should have known better than to ask Horatio such a question without first explaining that he himself knew better than to bring tarot cards onto a ship full of superstitious sailors. Surely Horatio didn't think him that foolish…or that daft as it were, or that Archie would, in any way, shape, or form, attempt to cause a rift in their friendship with such foolery.

A frown marred angelic features, giving him away as he rolled himself from the cot. His boots struck the wood and a soft thumping warned Horatio of his coming, though the other remained unmoved, instead focusing all his attention on preparing himself for carrying out his duties to the letter. This, however normal it might have seemed to most of the men, worried Archie further, almost to no end. He knew Horatio far too well to believe that he had already let it go, to believe that he was not still mulling it over and tossing it about in his mind along with that worrying initial question, and more still.

He made to lay a hand upon Horatio's shoulder only to have it roughly shrugged off as the young officer stood and whirled about, his eyes now betraying the fear that his face would not.

"How many of the others know of this?" Of what he would not say, but he did not need to and, not for the first time, Archie found himself wishing that he'd had sense enough to stay out of Horatio's private affairs.

"None, Horatio, I'm sure of it! You know I wouldn't breath a word of this," _and risk losing you forever this time _his mind added. Those were the words that did not need to be spoken. Not now and, after what he'd surmised and then made himself sure of this night, not ever. Horatio's heart belonged to Captain Pellew, and Archie knew better than to think that there was anything he could do to change that. A heart's course, once set, never strayed, not if it was so true…and it was. Of that, he was damnably certain.

Shoulder's lost their tense posture, slumping visibly as Horatio let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Archie, I…" He frowned, unsure of what to say, and Archie knew the words to come well enough to feel the need to halt them before they could be recovered and used as an unintentional slap in face, adding insult to unseen injury.

"I know 'ratio," he murmured, collecting his friend and wrapping arms about the acting lieutenant's lithe frame as he shook with emotion.

He knew, Horatio would never know and, if all went well, Pellew would be accidentally nudged in the right direction, and then Horatio would never need to know of Archie's own longings. That was the crux of love he supposed, a duty all its own, both love and duty managing to exact from one the same price in the end; self-sacrifice.

Years later, having lost Horatio in full to Pellew, despite the man's distance due to promotion, Archie sat in the shadows of the midshipman's birth and turned over a single card.

The Five of Cups lay like an innocent specter in an errant pool of moonlight, taunting him, making his misery all the more real before a familiar hand reached out to rotate it.

_The Five of Cups Reversed: The return of hope. The return of an old friend or loved one. Courage to overcome difficulties. A relationship has failed, or a loved one has been lost, but there is strength to recover from the grief._

Archie looked up into the eyes of William Bush, and found himself smiling fondly in spite of the tears trailing their downward tracks over his cheeks. The warmth conveyed in the gaze of his friend and fellow lieutenant told him that there was still yet a duty to be done. And yet it told him also that the sacrifices necessary for its completion need not be made alone. 


End file.
